Who can witness this, who can brook it, save a whore-monger, a guzzler, and a gamester, that Mamurra should possess what long-haired Gaul and remotest Britain erstwhile had. Thou catamite Romulus, this thou’lt see and bear? Then thou’rt a whore-monger, a guzzler, and a gamester. And shall he now, superb and o’er replete, saunter o’er each one’s bed, as though he were a snow-plumed dove or an Adonis? Thou catamite Romulus, this thou’lt see and hear? Then thou’rt a whore-monger, a guzzler, and a gamester. For such a name, O general unique, hast thou been to the furthest island of the west, that this thy futtered-out Mentula should squander hundreds of hundreds? What is’t but ill-placed munificence? What trifles has he squandered, or what petty store washed away? First his patrimony was mangled; secondly the Pontic spoils; then thirdly the Iberian, which the golden Tagus-stream knoweth. Do not the Gauls fear this man, do not the Britons quake? Why dost thou foster this scoundrel? What use is he save to devour well-fattened inheritances? Wast for such a name, O most puissant father-inlaw and son-inlaw, that ye have spoiled the entire world.